


I'm Always Here

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxiety, Comfort, Feels, Fluff, M/M, Nightmares, Self-Doubt, Trying to finish this before the day ends, Victor cries, Victuuri Week, Victuuri Week 2017, Why are all my fics emotional and angsty, Yuuri's anxiety comes into play here, day three, yuuri prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 06:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9643811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: It’s 3 AM. Yuuri’s reliving one of his most horrifying events in his life: the GPF before he met Victor. Victor’s a complete ass, and becomes his number one fear. Turns out it’s a dream, but Victor’s crying his eyes out after what he saw. Fluff and snuggles ensues. I’m slowly getting lazy here haha.





	

Yuuri’s in his old Detroit rink—why is he here? His hand reaches up to adjust his glasses only to realize they’re not there either. Alright what the hell is going on?

He doesn’t know if he’s actually aware of his surroundings. Everything looks real to him, but of course it does. He’s dreaming. Fear strikes him—is this going to turn out to be a nightmare or normal dream? For the past few days Yuuri has been dealing with his anxiety, shutting himself inside his room and isolating himself in his own head. Maybe this was the result.

A slow clap begins in the background, and Yuuri, surprised, turns around to find the source.

There’s no one there, but the clapping continues followed by dozens of them. Hundreds, thousands, until they all seem to be clapping for him. He doesn’t have any idea how to feel. Happy, full of pride? Should he be blowing flirty kisses at them like Victor or silently wave to them like he always does after competitions. The whole scene goes on for quite some time, before every sound goes completely dead.

Blinding glitter catches his attention and he looks down, horrified at what waits for his eyes.

His Grand Prix Final costume, the one he wore when he had his devastating loss. 

The Detroit rink disappears, and the enormous Grand Prix Final rink replaces it.

Yuuri, it’s nothing. You know what happens after this—you meet Victor, he falls in love with you at the banquet, everything is fucking fine. This is going to be a happy dream with nothing to worry about.

But then his feet start moving, and suddenly there is something to worry about. Yuuri, panicked and mental stability quickly decreasing, makes an attempt to grind his skates that appeared out of nowhere against the ice. There’s no use, they keep sliding, and he becomes nothing but a puppet mindlessly being controlled on the ice. 

He slips, the familiar memory of it returning to him. Unsurprised gasps roll throughout the crowd, and now he’s breathing uncontrollably.

Victor, Victor where are you?!

Platinum blond hair draws his attention, and he makes a move towards him. Surprisingly his feet have regained control, and Yuuri starts to move faster, relieved and hopeful to be in Victor’s arms ag—

Victor turns to face him, and instead of the heart-shaped smile and bright gleaming eyes he’s used to, all he is given is celebrity coldness. The turquoise eyes are glaring at him in revolt, arms crossed and in his old competition clothes. He doesn’t want him, doesn’t want him like this. But how’s Yuuri supposed to all of a sudden not love this man with all they’ve been through?

“Coming up to me after that shitty performance?” he mocked, the revolt spread visibly throughout his face. “You’ve got courage I have to admit. The only good thing about you.”

Well when was Victor this shitty to him?

“Victor now isn’t the time to be a salty little shit. What the fuck do you mean by that?” said Yuuri sarcastically. Although he didn’t believe Victor’s unusual demeanor, there was the fear that he was truly acting this way. 

“What the fuck I do I mean by that? What I mean is that I don’t know you. What gives you the idea that you’re entitled to me, someone who’s won consecutive GPF titles? Surely you can’t think that way after what I just saw,” Victor says, now a side of him he’s never seen before. He’s angry, but not angry like he is when the both of them have fights. Not the angry when he’s grumpy or holding a grudge. But it’s as if he hates him, absolutely loathes him.

If Yuuri had to choose, he’d rather have him hate him for eternity, than not know him. Here it goes both ways, now this Victor doesn’t know him and hates him at the same time.

And Yuuri doesn’t want to admit it to himself while he’s in a dream, but it’s tearing him to shreds on the inside.

“Look you’ve got to believe this. There’s no way that you don’t know me—I’m you husband for fucks’ sake!” yells Yuuri, who’s on the verge of just pinning Victor to the wall and yelling the same thing in his face a hundred times so he gets the idea. None of this is real, so what Victor’s saying isn’t real either. It’s a dream, he knows that, but Victor would never act like that. He reaches out, and grasps Victor’s wrist to get the message across.

Out of nowhere, the skater harshly pushes his hand off, shaking it a few times as if disgusted by his presence. 

“I’m not your husband, I’m not your anything. There’s no way I would look at a wreck like you, let alone love you,” says the platinum blond man coldly. “Leave me alone. I would never want you. Got it?”

Victor, the caring, occasionally air headed skater that Yuuri knew and treasured, walked out, not even glancing back to look at him. Who would want to anyway? Everything that Victor said did have some truth to it.

Every negative thought Yuuri had of himself crashed and destroyed him. He had stretch marks everywhere where his muscles were from the rapid weight loss months ago, to the self-esteem crushing anxiety he suffered from everyday. Those were all valid reasons why Victor wouldn’t love him. 

Yuuri doesn’t know when it happens, but now he’s crying.

Even this, this was a valid reason why Victor wouldn’t love him. But what’s the point in stopping now when Victor’s not here anymore? He’s the only person that held him to an equal standard, treated him like one. Yuuri has always doubted himself to the point where he felt like leaving everything. Everyone has. From his own family to a few friends. Why?

Why can’t he just be perfect for once, so that everyone could love him?

The scene in front of him vanishes, and a revelation comes to Yuuri that it’s because his eyes are closed. He’s falling, falling, and falling, until his back hits the soft surface of something cushiony. His eyes blow open, and are greeted with the bedroom that he and Victor share. 

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a shaken Victor, the dried streaks of tears along with fresh tears in his eyes. The tight grip on his hand turns out to be Victor’s own hand, and the platinum-blond man he saw in his dream is now nothing like the one here.

“Goddammit Yuuri, why did you have to scare me like that at 3 AM in the morning? You were practically sobbing your heart!” his husband barely gets out. He spots the beloved bedhead that Yuuri loves waking up to in the morning, but instead of the carefree smile that accompanies it there’s only a torn expression looking back at him. Victor drops his hand and gathers Yuuri in a shaking embrace, too afraid to let him go as if he might do something.

“Why would you ever think I’d stop loving you?” Victor says simply. 

And they’re hugging each other, neither one of them daring to let each other go. They don’t say much for the time being, opting for small mumbles of reassurance and sappy loving phrases. It’s not until Victor breaks the awkward conversation that Yuuri finally fully looks at Victor.

“I don’t fucking care if you win bronze at every competition we go to—I don’t give a shit if you don’t win any medal! All I want is you, perfect or flawed. If you push me away, I’m always going to come back for you,” the taller man chokes out, a slight croak in his voice from crying before. It’s rare that Yuuri sees him like this, but it makes him better because now at least he’s not the only one being vulnerable. Victor pulls away and grips his shoulders, shaking them a few times.

“I. love. you. That’s the way it’s going to be, whether you like it or not.”

He gently lowers himself and Yuuri to the soft haven of their bed, leaning over to press kisses to Yuuri’s jaw and neck.

“Victor.”

“Need anything?”

Sliding his arm under Victor’s torso, he positions his body closer to him, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“Do we have to get up in the morning?” he asks, wearily. The two of them laugh, relief washing over them and getting rid of the stress both just experienced.

“I hope not, but I heard Yakov has a special practice planned for us.”

“Screw it. I just had a panic attack in my dream and he wants me to practice? Let’s stay in and snuggle tomorrow,” Yuuri murmurs, his breath tickling Victor’s shoulder.

“Agreed,” Victor complies, reaching down to pull up the covers and covering the both of them. Sleep finally takes the both of them, pulling them into a dreamless, peaceful break from the world.

 

BONUS:

“WHAT THE HELL ARE THESE TWO UP TO NOW?!” Yakov screams into his tiny vintage cellphone. Neither Victor nor Yuuri have shown up to practice in two hours, and there’s only forty-five minutes left until the rink closes.

“What do I keep telling ya, old man? Buy a new cellphone and maybe those two will actually pick up,” the Russian fairy comments, returning to his intense make-out session with Otabek. 

“And how about you stop pressing your lips together every goddamn second, Plisetsky?! You’re supposed to be doing quads, you know!”

“Fine, fine, fine,” Yuri says in defeat, but drags Otabek along with him to “practice.”

“First those two, and now these two. I’m getting too fucking old for this jesus take me now,” the old coach admits, and takes out a hip flask full of vodka to ease his stress.

**Author's Note:**

> These fanfics are getting shorter and shorter by the day, if you can’t tell. I might start doing drabbles for the rest of the week, but I’m going to try to keep it up for you guys. So here’s another emotional angsty train wreck infused with a bit of humor for you guys. Also your submissions for Day 4 of Victuuri Week are insane (in a good way). Now it's going to be hard to choose just one (well most are smutty so that makes it even harder.)


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